Building Hollywood Credits
Boy howdy, have we got dish for you. Clubbers are gonna need some fat utensils, because Hollywood’s looking mighty flavorful these days.
First off, a new kid’s on the block, and he’s not some two-bit schmo. Businessman Craig Marlar, a nightclub owner with five properties in the Palm Springs area, took a shine to L.A. two years ago, when he made a bid to buy the Axis club in West Hollywood. It fell through, but if at first you don’t succeed, vie, vie again; Marlar snagged the property in August.
Two months ago, he acquired the Hollywood Athletic Club and is currently in negotiations with LunaPark in West Hollywood and--get this--the Hollywood Palladium. According to Marlar, who’s already made an offer on the pivotal live music venue, the deal’s “looking like a go,” with a few kinks still to be hammered out.
He plans to restore the club’s capacity to 4,500--it currently holds 3,700--and make it more of a “Vegas-style venue, with some real dining involved.” (Anyone who’s been to the Palladium knows man cannot exist on nachos alone.) . . . In other turnover news, the Davis brothers, Art and Alan, who own the popular Gate in Beverly Hills and who once had their hands in Billboard Live, just got the keys to the Probe and La Masia.
They’ve already re-christened La Masia, a salsa club on Santa Monica Boulevard, the Latin Quarter, after an old-time New York hot spot. For the Probe, the club on Highland Boulevard that was the epicenter of Hollywood’s gothic scene, they’re toying with the name the Dollhouse, as in, welcome to. . . . FYI, the last time we were at the Gate, it hadn’t lost any of its nutty sizzle. We watched a deliriously drunk chica take a swig from an olive oil flask--a true Kodak moment. . . .
It’s with sadness we report that Moguls operator, Phil Duff, who’s been battling a neighboring landowner for two years, lost the war. He was forced to close his club--one of the few 18-and-over venues in Hollywood. . . . The karma police must be on duty, though, because the front-runners to take over the warehouse-sized space have created some truly terrific contemporary Hollywood gems.
We also learned that the original owners of the Roxbury got the nod to retool a photo lab at the corner of Cahuenga and Sunset boulevards. . . . Bruce Perdew and Michael Stewart, promoters of numerous gothic, new wave and industrial-based dance clubs, finally got their very own Hollywood venue, too. Look for a newly revamped Las Palmas Theatre in the next few months. . . .
Speaking of revamping, when the Viper Room opened 5 1/2 years ago, things were a wee bit grungier on the Strip. Even though Handsome Johnny’s club seemed posh compared to the dirty old Central, the Viper still looked and smelled like rock ‘n’ roll--black, dark, steamy.
She’s a classy looking lassie now. The Viper’s gone all sleek, post-mod-deco-like, with a much-needed ventilation beef-up throughout. The once-black walls are now light and creamy; sharp-looking cherry wood decorates both floors; and the downstairs bar is reconfigured and enlarged. Those who got their hands on a $200 ticket to Saturday’s performance by Courtney Love and Eric Erlandson can see for themselves. . . .
Don’t be surprised 30 years from now when President Woody Harrelson is caught inhaling oxygen in the Oval Office. Harrelson’s new O2 restaurant and nightclub isn’t just a place to tank up on some fresh air, it’s a course in lifestyle options--with thought-provoking literature in ample supply. The upholstery and curtains of this West Hollywood, intergalactic-looking venue are made from hemp, and the food, prepared by manager and chef John Wood, raises one’s health consciousness in one visit (no meat, lotsa flavor).
At Monday night’s brand-new O2 electronic club, Green Space, we watched some rather beautiful boho-looking folks suck oxygen to the warped sounds of DJ Phoenicia. We wondered what people were doing in, say, Kentucky, and what they’d think of the lounging airheads. We realized we didn’t care and ponied up to our own respirator, while thanking God for our good fortune to live in Southern California. . . .
Last week, we promised a captivating recap of New Year’s Eve parties, and judging by the number of accidental drink spills we witnessed, it was a very good time. We haven’t seen a beer-spilling blizzard like that since the ‘80s, and surely, that must be a sign o’ club times.
By far the most polite swiller spillers were at the Variety Arts Center, for the annual mind-meld of Sin-A-Matic, Cherry, Coven 13, Flash and Shout! Here, when cups ranneth over onto your person, people actually apologized. Rolling with a posse of seven, we started off the night at this well-worn ghost of downtown’s past, which was all a-glitter with five, fun-filled floors of fetish tomfoolery.
An earlier attempt to lure the entourage to Dragonfly to wish Ozomatli a heartfelt happy new year was thwarted by a paranoid member of the party’s fear he’d be encased in a car when the clock struck 12. For the record, traffic wasn’t bad and getting around proved easier than expected. (Next year, you’re riding in another car, pal.) Cherry’s DJ Mike Messex had everyone in earshot whipped into a pre-countdown frenzy with Hole, Nirvana and the “Grease” soundtrack. Breathing became an act of will. Meanwhile, the godfather of all that is good in L.A. night life, Joseph Brooks, was showing his transcendental techno moves on the top floor, where Sin-A-Matic was going off with adoring fans and fannies everywhere.
Later on, Jason Lavitt, a partner of Brooks’ and reigning mod DJ, crashed the party of his former employers, Helter Skelter, in Hollywood. The doorman wouldn’t let him in. “For the record,” he told Lavitt, “we did 1,500 tonight.” For the record, the Variety Arts Center pulled in 2,500 guests. Now, the various promoters are considering teaming up at the end of 1999 for a 4,000-person event. At the Palladium, perhaps?
Look for Lavitt and Brooks’ next confection, a Saturday night club at the El Rey Theater called Make-Up, which launches on Feb. 6. The monthly glampunknewromantic affair will have a midnight drag show and its own house band.
Meanwhile, back in our NYE caravan, we moseyed over to the Garage, landing just in time for Texas Terri, the gutsiest female performer we’ve seen since whenever. (Dropping her fishnets during an encore, she wished guests a happy New Year where the sun don’t shine.)
Remember last week’s “Buzz” party teaser (“the chica who’s the cheekiest / and the actress who gives great face”)? We were referring to Courtney Love and Drew Barrymore, who threw a very pretty party at a Hollywood sound stage at the corner of La Brea Avenue and Santa Monica Boulevard. We didn’t crash the celeb party till late and missed the hostesses. We did see Eric Erlandson try to explain to a probing guest he wasn’t an actor but “a musician” in a band called “Hole.” The guest didn’t seem impressed and Erlandson didn’t seem to mind. The best sighting of all came in the bathroom line, where we got to admire actress Karen Black right up close. It’s not everyday, you get to see the “Five Easy Pieces” legend while waiting to relieve oneself. We also met a kid named Josh, who was only standing in the bathroom line to meet chicks. Later on the dance floor with Mr. Lonelyhearts, the DJ played “Celebrity Skin” and thought it was cool to play Hole at Hole’s party.
The party ended around 3:30 a.m., but not before we loaded up as many tulips, roses and orchids as possible without looking too suspicious. Had our own rose parade on New Year’s Day.
See? It’s already shaping up to be an interesting year. . . .
